Golden Snitch
by i.am.lily.evans
Summary: Ingredients: James, Sirius, a Snitch, and a book. Instructions: Make James artistic and Sirius a book worm. End Result: CHAOS!


James and Sirius step inside into a Snitch-Shop on a snowy December morning, their teeth chattering and red hands numb with cold.

It's only a one-room factory, with a large, disorganized desk in the middle. The desk has a mess of items on it, but what makes Sirius like the place best is a large, thick book on the corner of the desk, titled _Quidditch's Illegal Spells_. He immediately sits on a stool and hauls the book onto his lap with a loud grunt, flipping through the yellowed pages.

"Pads?" James asks absently, making his way over to the desk with a Quidditch set of balls. He sits down and starts to work on the nearly-completed Snitch.

"Mmm?" Sirius grunts, muttering spells at random. "Mate, look at this! A spell that can cause all Quidditch balls to attack one person! We could play a prank on Moony! Imagine!"

"There's no one in the shop." James says, gloving his hands with large gloves, originally lying on the floor.

Sirius ignores his statement, his eyes glued to the rule-book. "Whoa! A spell to make the Bludger hit the referee! We can have Madam Hooch out in the infirmary for weeks! Or our dear Minnie..."

"Look at these wings, Padfoot!" James exclaims, holding a still, pristine wing delicately in his palm. It slips out of his palm and James knocks over the chair, catching the wing in between his fingers. "Pads! Let's make a message! What do you think?"

"I open at the close..." Sirius fingers a page, reading out loud a passage.

"Alright, I open at the close it is then." James takes his wand and etches a diminutive message on the Snitch, making scratchy, quill-like noises. "The Seeker who catches it won't know what hit him! I open at the close...only dear Dumbly would know that 'This is the end' would be the end of the riddle! I'd wager seven Sickles that if the Seeker got to keep the Snitch, he would spend endless nights wondering what the answer is!"

"Brilliant." Sirius snaps his head up, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Are you almost done?"

"Just one more wing, a simple spell, and we're all set." James replies, strapping the Snitch down. He carefully takes the end of a wing and pushes it into the opposite crevice of the other wing, automatically sealing the wing so it wouldn't fall out. He points his wand at the snitch, grinning. "And now..._Strennus Snitch_!"

"Where did you learn to do _that_?" Sirius gaped, hauling the book back to the table.

"It says to do so on this bit of parchment." James stands up, pointing to a dusty piece of parchment filled with instructions. "Can we leave? This place is colder than outside!"

"One moment. You're naming your son Harry, right?" Sirius asks, taking his wand out discreetly.

"That's what Lily says. She's hoping it's a boy and that it looks like me!"

"Y'know, I think...here, lemme try something..." Sirius directs his wand at the strapped Snitch, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "_Harry Potter mos reprehendo Snitch_!"

The spell causes the Snitch to suddenly have a gold aura and disappear. James looks at Sirius questioningly. "What was that?"

"A spell to make sure that Harry Potter will be the only person to catch the snitch. Specifically, 'Harry Potter owns the Snitch'. Brilliant, yeah?"

"Where did you find that spell?"

"In that book."

"Of _illegal_ spells!"

"It's not as if we haven't done things that are illegal before."

"My Prongsie-boy, be happy! This Snitch is going to be in a Quidditch game somewhere, most likely Hogwarts!"

"Right." James rolls his eyes, motioning for Sirius to leave the shop.

"No, honestly!" Sirius steps outside and points to a sign on the window. "Look it says: We deliver to Hogwarts!"

"Merlin's beard! Pads, this is great!" James exclaims, jumping up and down excitedly as if he were eleven again. "This is-this is bloody _brilliant_! What if Harry is a Seeker?"

"Then he'll catch the Snitch, and Gryffindor will _win the match_!!" Sirius screams into the frosty air.

They shout together as five-year olds, pumping their fists into the air. :

"Gryf-fin-DOR! Gryf-fin-DOR! Gryf-fin-DOR! GRYF-FIN-DOR!"

And walk down the sidewalk content, all of a sudden not feeling so cold at all.

**note: **my first one-shot, so please review!


End file.
